LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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Shelf ...USS'S Ms 



UNITES) STATES OP AMERICA. 



MAGNOLIA LEAVES 



POKIVIS 



BY 



MRS. B. C. RUDE 




X 



4i?,^.^ 



BUFFALO 

CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 

1891 






Copyright, 1891, 
By Mrs. B. C. Rudk. 



PRINTED BY 

C. W. MOULTON, 

BUFFALO, N. Y. 



CONTENTS. 

PACK 

A Shadow Picture 9 

Nan and Her Husband 14 

The Harkness House 20 

The Old Mill-Site 25 

By the Lightning's Flash 27 

The Tree of State — The Maple .... 28 

Si Do Re 31 

The Sand Flower 33 

Lincoln 34 

Uncaged 35 

Into the Likeness 36 

Sea Mosses 37 

In Memoriam — E. J. A 38 

True Charity 40 

The Daisy . 41 

Our Neighbor's Baby 42 

Life 45 

Song — Memorial Day 46 

A Nation's Mourning Day 48 

Love in a Boat 49 

Altar Memories 50 

Protect us from Our Friends — An 

Aryan Myth 51 

For a Boy's Album 53 

'A Home by the Southern Sea 54 

When no one Knows 56 

The Country Lass 58 



4 Co7ite7its. 

PAGE 

In Memoriam — Little Grace 59 

Life's a Load of Needless Care .... 60 

Waiting at the Dock 61 

The Swinging Door 62 

Thanksgiving Day 64 

'Neath the Cottonwood Trees 66 

The Banquet 67 

In Memoriam — Freda 69 

-The Unavailing Tear 71 

We've Sung Together 72 

The Old Year 75 

Do Your Good for the Sake of Itself 76 

An Arbor Day Plea 78 

The Golden Wedding — Dedicated to 

"Joe" and "Eurie" 80 

Little Dick's Prayer 83 

Hazlerood 85 

Two Butterflies 87 

The Donation 88 

'Twixt Two Eternities 90 

The Twin Statues — A Legend of the 

Passamaquady 91 

Coldness Among Church Members . . 94 

Day-Birth 95 

Dame Grumblebee 96 

Old Voices 97 

Centennial Ode 98 

Sonnet of Years — 1890 102 



Contents. 5 

PAGE 

My Two Sweethearts 103 

Nor.ma's Telephone 104 

By Chance 106 

Tenting on Sodus Bay 108 

The First Easter — At the Memorial 

Church iii 

Naming the Tree 113 

Our Dead Chief — 1882 115 

Fruition in Shadow 116 

A Mine of Thought 118 

C^dmon 120 

My Signet Ring — Dedicated to "VV. S." 

OF Sodus, N. Y 122 

Oh, Spare the Old House 123 



MAGNOLIA LEAVES. 



MAGNOLIA LEAVES. 



A SHADOW PICTURE. 

FAIR St. Augustine, nature's winter queen, 
Languidly is lying 
In her summer dress of rarest loveliness, 

Listening to the sighing, 
And the steady moaning, and the weary groaning 

Of the sea. 
Sails are i'dly flapping, boatmen soundly napping — 
Dreaming are we. 

Fair St. Augustine! Southern summer queen! 

I love thy vine-wreathed bowers. 
Where the moon-flower creeping, silent night-watch 
keeping. 
Unfolds her fair white flowers, 
While, watching dainty fingers, a foolish lover 
lingers 

Near a maid, 

B 



lo Magnolia Leaves. 

Who sings and deftly weaves the sunned palmetto 
leaves, 

Beneath the shade. 

Fair St. Augustine! Oh, the joyous scene! 

Billows gaily dancing, 
Bounding, rolling, dashing, o'er the bathers splash- 
ing,— 
Bathers shyly glancing 
At some loved one waving. Together they are 
braving 

The sea's embrace. 
The maidens fair and shy on swimmers bold rely 
With easy grace. 

Fair St. Augustine! at her best is seen 

From the boats returning; 
Tile roofs red as fire, capped with dome and spire, 

'Neath the sunset burning. 
Fond maids and loving swains, sing low and soft 
refrains 

And admire; 
While men of sober lives unto their trusting wives 
Draw them nigher. 

When St. Augustine is robed in starry sheen, 
And the evening hue, 



A Shadow Picture. n 

All dotted o'er with stars and crossed by Luna's 
bars, 
Peeps so faintly through; 
Then her natives, swinging to the tuneful ringing 
Of the bells in the shells 
On the shore; 
Dance and trip in pairs, fanned by summer airs, 
Ever more. 

Fair St, Augustine! Humbled southern queen! 

Mingling with thy chimes 
' * A tragic wail — of old ? The echo from some hold ? 

Some sepulcher of crimes ? ' ' 
At the mid-day hour, with weird and tragic power. 

Breathes out its woe, 
Each lover half afraid of harm to helpless maid, 
Turns to go. 

Fair St. Augustine! Stricken southern queen! 

Bow low thy head in tears; 
Nor weave a magic spell around yon tolling bell. 

Nor still thy haunting fears. 
The air filled with sobbing, sets thy great heart 
a-throbbing 

In sympathy. 
While crazed hearts vainly crying, caress the loved 
ones dying; 

And the sea, 



12 Magnolia Leaves. 

In funereal beating knells the slayer "Greeting; 

Thou'rtHe! Thou'rt He! " 
Each echoing heart repeating 

"Thou'rtHe!" 

Fair St. Augustine! Arise thou honored queen! 

Thy scepter, peace, receive, 
Which, mounted by the dove, insignia of love, 

Shall emblem thy reprieve, 
For trailing in the dust the banner of thy trust 

Vouchsafed to all. 
Of safety, rest and charm, with naught of fear or 
harm, 

When death's dark pall, 
Should be the curtained fold which hides the gates 
of gold. 

And Nature worn 

Should slip behind the veil, and le^ve no tragic tale 

Of hearts so torn. 

Fair St. Augustine! Favored southern queen! 

Be worthy of the grace 
Bestowed by palaces, and fairy fountain sprays; 

And courts where interlace 
Sweet blooms of mingled shades, whose beauty 

never fades. 

* 

And to the name 



A Shadow Picture. 13 

Of him who with his art hath cheered fair Nature's 
heart, 

And brought you fame, 
Ascribe a grateful song which shall that name 
prolong, 

Till time's eternity 
Engulfs the sea. 



14 Magnolia Leaves. 



NAN AND HER HUSBAND. 

WHEN I was a child the neighbors all smiled 
At mention of Moffet and Nancy. 
Their old house was sunny, their ways were so 

funny; 
They lived in a clearing. I fancy 
To-day that I hear ring out loud and clear, 
Dame Nancy's voice calhng 
The kine from the wood, 
While lustily "balling" 
Came Betty and Prude; 
While on the fence perching was many an urchin, 
All hoping yet fearing Dame Nancy's appearing. 
We slid from the picket when out from the thicket 
A clambering o'er logs came Nan and her dogs; 
A moment of gaping, and then such a flapping 
Of loose little pants; 

Such a jumping and leaping 
With eyes all askance. 

And loose frocks a-sweeping, 
To a haunted old house on the corner, and there 
Once securely housed we proceeded to stare. 
Dame Nancy was harmless, and all of us knew it. 
Though we for the life of us couldn't see through it, 



Nan a7id Her Husband. 15 

For Nancy in woolen, and frowsy and old, 
Was, everyone said, a sight to behold ; 
While from daylight till dark 

Old Bruno and Towser 
Would go "bark! bark! bark! bark!" 
Then "bow! wow! wow! wow!" sir! 
And though we were taught that barking dogs bite 

not. 
Yet ever we reasoned, they might and they might 

not; 
But for fear that they might, we'll just get out o' 

sight. 
And so in the top of the old haunted house, 
Each little sprite stood as still as a mouse. 
Till the queer-looking trio 
Had passed out of sight. 
Then with clapping and heigh oh! 
Ran out with delight. 
Now Moffet, Nan's husband, was uglier than she. 
Sometimes he was ugly as ugly could be. 
Nan read her Bible, and Bunyan, and often 
When talking of Heaven, her old eyes would soften. 
But he kept a pail with a bung like a barrel. 
And most of the neighbors 'cept dear Mr. Farrel, 
Would take it to town and get it re-filled. 
When passing the place where gin was distilled. 
And whenever you noticed his tongue growing- 
thicker, 



1 6 Magnolia Leaves. 



You might know old Moffet again was in liquor. 
And always his spite he'd vent on dear Mr. Farr^l, 
Who avoided his pail with a bung like a barrel. 
'Twas a source of annoyance to Farrel, my father, 
And caused us a sight of vexation and bother. 
Sometimes at our gate he would prattle and prate, 
Or swear, till the ends of my hair stood up straight. 
Thus sympathy drew me quite near to Dame Nancy, 
And filled me, I own, with a rare childish fancy 
For this creature so strange who used to decoy me, 
When Moffet was gone and not there to annoy me, 
To their old house so filled with curious things. 
With laces and silks, hair relics and rings. 
Profiles and head-gear, — strange bonnets I ween. 
Full pretty enough for the head of a queen. 
While armor and fishing-rods hung on the wall, 
A show of old splendor thus brightening it all. 
While Nancy with pride would whisper aside, 
" My folks was folks, though most of 'em's died. 
I've made a fool of myself an' there's no denyin' it," 
She'd say with a voice that had a deep sigh in it. 
"Katherine Kline," said she once, "is my sister's 

child, 
The other one married old Dobbs," and she smiled. 
" All that old miser's wealth was secured by stealth 
From the old but renowned De Lancy estate; 
I'm the creature of fate since Moffet's my mate. 
Sweet Katharine Kline a fair lady fine 



Nan and Her Husband. 17 

Some day will be — but there's no luck for me." 

This fell from her tongue, but I was so young 

No import it had, and I never repeated 

These words which I heard when at her side seated. 

Grim Death grew strangely tender, kind, 

When, leaving kith and kin behind. 

Old Dobbs was followed by old Moffet, 

The neighbors said en route for Tophet. 

But Nancy said, " My Moffet died 

With my old Bible at his side, 

And loudly he for mercy cried. 

The gentle simmerin' of the kittle 

And Towser's moanin' jest a little. 

Was all the sounds there was a stirrin' 

Save may be the cats a purrin','' — 

And Nancy had of cats a score, 

Nineteen I know, I think no more — 

" When suddenly he looked at me 

And said ' Old Nan eternity 

Is starin' me full in the face,' — 

I held his hand and said my grace — 

' And if you says I'll be forgiven 

And find my way clean into Heaven, 

I'll go to sleep jest like a child,' 

And then he looked at me and smiled. 

' And you forgive me. Nan, old Nan ? 

If you forgive me Jesus can. 

Were't not for them that drove me wild 



i8 Magnolia Leaves. 

I'd had my birthright ready filed. 
Tell Farrel he was brave and true 
When he refiised to join the crew 
That brought me gin, an' brought to you 
Such sorrow and such sufFerin' too.' 
And then he sobbed, and such repentin', 
And when such prayers as these are sent in 
Before the throne where God is livin' 
Then I know there is forgivin'." 
And no one doubted after this 
That Moifet's soul found rest and peace, 
And Preacher Baxter did his best 
To not disturb the sleeper's rest. 
But scarce the sods had knitted o'er 
That lowly grave, when at our door 
Dame Nancy claimed the right of kin 
To Katharine Kline, who with chagrin 
Unfeigned, received it. But soon convinced 
By Nancy's tale, nor shrank nor winced, 
And early past our cottage door 
Sweet Katharine to her mansion bore 
In tenderness, a well-known form. 
All bent with age and scathed by storm; 
And seated 'mong her relics, Nancy 
For years indulged her childish fancy, 
By weaving superstitious stories 
To children lingering round her chair, 



Na7i and Her Husband. 19 

Like pretty wreaths of morning glories 

About a branch all withered, bare. 
And laden with this weight of bloom 
Dame Nancy traveled to her tomb, 
And Preacher Baxter shed a tear, 
With kindly neighbors o'er her bier. 



20 Magnolia Leaves. 



THE HARKNESS HOUSE. 

'T'HERE is no village, howe'er small, 
^ But has some manor, cot or hall. 

Deserted, haunted, where by day 

Bats hide, and nightly, witches play. 

The Harkness House a history had; 

'Twas neither good nor yet was bad; 

Within the sound of cannon shot 

From "Mormon Hill," this haunted spot 

'Neath superstition's fostering care. 

Wore a mysterious gloomy air. 

E'en old " Ganargua's " ghost was roaming 

In the evening and the gloaming. 

The Foxes practicing stance 

With Horace Greeley on finance. 
A miser, Dobbs, in early life. 
By mischance won a highborn wife 

Before his youthful instinct, greed. 

Had crystalized in sordid deed. 

She, reared in lap of luxury. 

Soon pined for treasures hid away; 

Felt dwarfed and smothered, as if e'en 

The air was growing close and mean. 

His tightening grasp so chafed and wore 



The Harkness House. 21 

Upon her heart-strings, torn and sore, 

That even death was glad surcease; 

A guerdon clasp which brought release. 

Unfettered, freed, her soul at last 

From out beneath Dobbs' shadow passed; 

A friendly grave its sods now pressed 

Above her weary waiting breast. 

The busy neighbors, skilled in weaving, 

Now gathered up some family threads. 

And weaving with them fancy shreds, — 

It must be owned the whole relieving — 

A pattern showed of 'broidered thought, 

So deftly traced, so finely wrought, 

So charming to this gentle folk; 

Who would the sentence dare revoke. 

That Dobbs' wife was heard to moan ? 

And mediums when Dobbs's alone 

Sat at his frugal meal at night, 

Had called her in to cheer his sight ? 

Some "rappings " once 'twas said he heard 

But clutched his gold nor spoke nor stirred. 

One night he died, and Katharine Kline 

By will and heritage, his mine 

Of wealth received. The "rappings" still 

Resounded through the house at will. 

It stood deserted, and the ghosts 

Themselves invited as its hosts. 

But many times I've climbed the stair, 



22 Magnolia Leaves. 

And listened to the " rappings " rare, 

And waited till my favorite mouse, — 

Companion ghost within the house — 

Came shyly forth to its repast 

Of bread and cheese before it cast. 

Friend mouse retreating I have staid. 

And through those haunted chambers strayed, 

And gazing out the windows played 

That I was queen of all I saw; 

That I unto myself was law. 

A realm was mine, and every sail, 

Which gaily dipped before the gale, 

Was subject to my childish will. 

So lavishly did Nature fill 

My soul athirst. Her varying moods 

Of lake and headlands, shore and woods. 

All catered to each childish whim, 

Till overflowed life's joyous brim. 

'Twas here with Esther, Tom, and Han, 

And Lottie, too, I watched for Nan. 

'Twas here we stood so still and sly. 

Oft times when she in passing by 

With superstitious dread and fear. 

Now paused, now hurried, as her ear 

Caught our low giggle floating down 

From those tall windows bare and brown. 

Fair Katharine Kline, an heiress now, 



The Harkness House. 23 

And being free to smile and bow, 

Her charms by 'broidered dress enhanced, 

Vied with the sun, which shyly glanced 

Through gauze and fringe of cloud and mist, 

And morn and eve her soft cheek kissed. 

As if to shield her beauteous grace 

She fitted up the " Harkness Place." 

And soon 'neath paint and fond repair. 

And Katharine's unremitting care, 

This haunted house among the trees. 

Which told its tale in sighing breeze, 

Revived, unto its porches drew 

The village maidens; and not a few 

More favored lads, or young men, rather, 

Were wont on summer eves to gather 

As escort more for timid maid 

Than suitor for the one who staid. 

Our village tutor, half inspired 

Our ardent love of learning fired, 

Till youthful "literati " sought 

To plume and ventilate their thought. 

And many hours with Katharine spent 

In study earnest and intent. 

Oh, let me speak in proud acclaim. 

In memory fond of Katharine's fame. 

Her home a seat of culture was. 

Her ear e'er open to the cause 

Of youth's advancement, brought, by scores 



24 Magnolia Leaves. 

An eager throng within her doors. 
And these found courage, hope, and cheer, 
Enthroned, their earnest tales to hear. 
E'en echoing love steals down the years, 
From guests transferred to heavenly spheres. 
And swells the chorus of our song. 
As Katharine's name we proud prolong. 
* -x- * ^fr * * 

Who first draws out our latent gift. 
The mates who joined us by the way. 
In pure and healthful rivalry, 
Haunt still the place of first uplift. 
While o'er that spot there hangs a spell — 
My lips at'e mute, I may not tell. 



The Old Mill- Site. 25 



THE OLD MILL-SITE. 

THERE'S only a mill-site pond and stream, 
Not even the old-time whirr; 
Alone I sit on a fallen beam 

And wait, while fond memories stir. 
I wait for the children who used to throng 
Down under the willows the whole day long. 

The minnows are playing, but oh, the mill 
Where father sawed the hemlock log 
While we sat side-wise on the dog. 
Lies scattered in pieces along the hill, 
And everything is so still, so still. 

The pond's running low, the flume is out. 
And only a lazy stream 

Goes crawling among the stones about, 
As a shadow seen in a dream. 

Dow^n under the bridge the cows found shade 

As they came to the swollen stream to wade. 

I see them e'en now and my father waiting, 
As up the hill they slowly wend 
At close of day with clumsy trend, 
A-nibbling the clover and grasses, bating, 
So calmly unconscious, — and father waiting. 
c 



26 Magnolia Leaves. 

Fm waiting for one whose step is slow, 

Whose eyes are now growing dim; 
He's always been young to me I trow 

Since erst I went following him 
Through pastures green or at husking time, 
When I was a child and he in his prime. 

Now slowly he's coming adown the hill. 

He heard me call and came to me. 

I knew he'd come. 'Tis he, 'tis he! 

His hair is so white but I guess he's still 

As young as he was when he came from the 
mill. 



By the Lightning'' s Flash. 27 



BY THE LIGHTNING'S FLASH. 

A TINY craft went sailing by 
My cot by the sea to-day, 
A storm was gathering in the sky, 

And dark o'er the waters lay. 
I sit in the darkness and gaze 
To see, if I may, in the haze, 
By the lightning's flashing light 
O'er the sea, a sail to-night. 
No sail ! No sign! But somewhere I know 
A tiny sail 
Has met the gale 
And rides the sea over, or lies the sea under. 
Oh, daring bold rover, which is it, I wonder ? 
A flash! A tug's in sight; and in tow, 
A tiny craft, 
A sailing aft. 



28 Magnolia Leaves. 



THE TREE OF STATE. 

THE MAPLE. 

PROUD emblem tree of the Empire State! 
Thy virtues on this festal day 
I cheerfully would commemorate, 

And own allegiance to thy sway. 
Deep-rooted in thy native soil, 

The field of all my earlier toil. 
The sepulcher which holds in trust 

For future time, my kindred dust; 
The play-ground of my childhood years, 

The cradle of my dreams, loves, fears; 
The very dust is dear which creeps ^ 

About thy roots and vigil keeps. 
And every fibre of thy growth 

Endeared to me since early youth 
Grows dearer still, while dreaming where 

Magnolia bloom fills all the air. 

FIRST VERSE. 

I see thee now before the storm king bending, 

As I have seen thee oft, and fled from under, \ 

When lightning flashes, scarce begun, scarce end- ] 

ing, \ 



The Tree of State. 29 

Their works have told in tones of fiercest thunder. 
And thou wast beautiful and great, 
Oh, emblem tree of the Empire State! 

SECOND VERSE. 

I see thee now, well-rounded, calm, and blending 

Shades and touches by deft Nature's brush. 
And o'er the whole, the latest sunset lending 
That strange, soft something, 'twixt a glow and 
flush. 
Which holds entranced, e'en while I wait. 
Oh, emblem tree of the Empire State! 

THIRD VERSE. 

Now lo! behold ! Two happy lovers straying 
Grow conscious that the moonbeams softly steal- 
ing 
Athwart their path, are stealthily betraying 
Their soul-lit faces; mirrored love revealing. 
So, 'neath thy shade, they trembling wait, 
To shield Love's flush, oh, Tree of State! 

FOURTH VERSE. 

E'en merry urchins 'neath thy branches swinging. 
Refresh themselves at thy o'erflowing fountain. 
And praises loud in childish glee are ringing, 
As one by one, thy top-most branches mounting, 
Each vies with each, oh, Tree of State! 
While echoing hills reiterate. 



30 Magnolia Leaves. 

FIFTH VERSE. 

I see them now, thy garnered leaves, adorning 

The palace hall and hovel, yea! the bier. 
They turn the night of poverty to morning, 
And bring to gilded homes a touch of cheer; 
While even Death they decorate, — 
Thy leaves — oh, cherished Tree of State! 

SIXTH VERSE. 

But words are sounding voids, when hands are 
waiting 
To set the royal seal of praise to-day. 
And show a love enduring, unabating. 
By planting thy dear rootlets by the way. 
Long live the Maple, grand and great! 
Proud emblem tree of the Empire State! 



Sty Do, Re. 31 



SI, DO, RE. 

SHE'S Evelyn Lee, the dairyman's daughter; 
She's only a-singing a tune that he taught her. 
"Who taught her?" you ask. Why, the singing- 
school master! 
Who always smiled sweetly whenever he passed her, 
And made her heart beat just a wee bit the faster. 
They say that she loves him. Be that as it may, 
Let her sing if she wants to, fa, sol, la, si, do, re. 

The singing-school closed when the evenings grew 

shorter, 
But still she kept singing — the dairyman's daughter. 
She goes to her task with the first peep o' day, 
And whatever her thoughts, she keeps singing 

away. 
As she changes the milk into cheese, curd and 

whey. 
They say that she's pining. Be that as it may, 
Let her sing if she wants to, fa, sol, la, si, do, re. 

The master, he's gone — gone for good, I suppose. 
He's returned ? You've seen him ? Why, yes, there 
he goes! 



32 Magnolia Leaves. 

And as sure as I live there's the dairyman's daughter 

A sauntering out for a pail o' fresh water. 

She sees him; she runs for the house, but he's 

caught her 
And kissed her, and she — well be that as it may! 
He's come to be married and take her away. 
You don't say! You don't say! Fa, sol, la, si, do, re. 



The Sand Flower. 33 



THE SAND FLOWER. 

"11 7E saw a white flower in the sand, 

' ' Growing by the sea. 

I went to pluck it with my hand, 

He said, "Let it be! 
'Tis sweet, where might and power are sweUing, 
To see, in peace and safety dwelHng, 

A thing so wee. ' ' 
I reached as if to pluck the dainty flower. 
He caught my hand, and holds it to this hour. 

Oft times we view the sand flower creeping, 
My hand in his in sacred keeping. 



34 Magnolia Leaves. 



LINCOLN. 

LINCOLN, ordained to meet a country's want, 
From lowly walks grew lowlier as he rose 
Triumphant o'er occasions and o'er foes. 
With dignity oft spiced with pleasant taunt 
Dispensed he justice unimpaired by daunt. 
Where'er is told the tale of slavery's woes, 
In proud display the name of Lincoln goes, 
But autographed with ne'er a trace of vaunt. 

America's proud heirloom ne'er shall be 
Mildewed in shelved and worthless history. 
Both victims and the masters of the crime 
Alike revere the name that set them free. 
All write him proudest hero of his time. 
Illustrious martyr of a cause sublime. 



Uncaged. 35 



UNCAGED. 

T^HE zone which binds the higher life, 
■^ Expands beneath the soothing balm 
Of early morning's restful calm, 
When night has stilled the jar of strife. 

Like birds uncaged we swing aloft. 

Our narrow selves outgrown, we sing 

In sympathy with Nature's ring, 
In numbers round or trillings soft. 

Advances now with rapid strides 
Broad day, and we, earth-bound shrink back. 
That duty's hour may know no lack, 

To find our fitness amplified. 

Our feet run with a lighter trip, 
Our hands now eager grasp their toil, 
While far more freely flows the oil 

Of human love from heart and lip. 

Then rise, oh, burdened soul, and let 

Your higher being trill a song. 

Which through your grovelings shall prolong 
Its echoes, till the day has set. 



36 Magnolia Leaves. 



INTO THE LIKENESS. 

THE sunflower, clinging to its stalk, 
Can neither fly, nor run, nor walk. 
But ever gazes towards the sun, 
From early morn till day is done. 
And really it is quite amazing 
How like the sun it grows, in gazing. 
If, while earth-bound, we may not quite 
Reach up unto the grandest height. 
By keeping it each day in view 
We may adorn us with its hue. 



Sea Mosses. 37 



SEA MOSSES. 

I'VE gathered sea mosses, all wet with the sea, 
And this is the way they came floating to me. 
The waves held a carnival. Each wore a crest 
Of sky-tinted mosses, and lovingly pressed 
Each other, and kissed, as they laughingly played. 
And some of the wavelets made love, and they 
strayed 

'Mong the rocks on the shore, 
And they ruthlessly tore 
From the coquettish wavelets so thoughtless and 

gay, 
This bunch of sea mosses, all dripping with spray. 
And I just came up slyly and stole them away. 



38 Magnolia Leaves, 



IN MEMORIAM. 

E. J. A. 

I MIND me well, dear hearts, to-night. 
Of one who made your home a paradise; 
For where she led there followed longing eyes 
Of doting love and anxious ecstacies, 
All centering toward this central light. 

Let only those who know the spell 
An only child weaves round the parent heart, 
Dare touch the theme or paint the chastening dart, 
Which through long years has now become a part 
Of all your pleasures; pains as well. 

E'en Death we know was loth to bear 
From out its place a form so lithe and free, 
He came not with a swoop of cruel glee 
But with a halting wing, reluctantly. 
Returned her to our Father's care. 

Can we forget that sunset time 

When she triumphant spoke, ''The victory's won^ 

I go, sweet hearts, the Father's will be done ? 



In Memoriam. 39 



Behold the glory of yon setting sun! 
The clouds but make it more sublime. 

*' I go to leave a settled gloom 
Upon these hearts that love me well I know. 
But like yon clouds, may all your gloom and woe, 
When lighted by life's latest sunset glow, 
Light all your pathway to the tomb! " 

The prayer, dear hearts, which followed when, 
In spirit meek, ye yielded up your child. 
Not with a noisy grief, but in those mild 
Still words. Can we forget, or how she smiled, 
And kissed you with a sweet ^^Amenf^* 
Wkllsvillk, N. Y. 



40 Magyiolia Leaves. 



TRUE CHARITY. 

LET not e'en your left hand know the gift you 
bestow 
With your right, to the neighbor just over the way. 
Let your Hfe be the trumpet before you to go, 
And repeat by its sweetness the prayers that you 
say. 



The Daisy. 41 



THE DAISY. 

DAISIES, bright daisies, keep nodding at me, 
And winking and blinking so coquettishly, 
While up from the depths of their great speaking 

eyes 
Love and loyalty well. Dear National ties! 
Go! Weave me a banner of grasses, fresh grasses 
From out of the roadside, where ever>'one passes. 
Now bring me sweet daisies 
Cut from the roadside. 
The pretty ox-eyed. 
Which ever>'one praises. 
Now tastefully lay in the daisies for stars. 
And catch me the radiant sunbeams for bars; 
Then say if a prettier emblem can be 
For this land of the brave, this home of the free. 

D 



42 Magnolia Leaves. 



OUR NEIGHBOR'S BABY. 

A PICTURE of our baby May, 
Our neighbor's baby o'er the way. 
Let me peep o'er your shoulder, 
It is she, just behold her! 

Perfect! Form and feature! 

Precious darling creature! 

Eyes of blue, dimples too. 
Cheeks vermilion white and rose. 
Dainty feet and precious toes. 
Peeping out from 'neath her clothes! 

No baby smiles like baby May 

And there's her smile as plain as day. 
Now let her speak, she's tr>'ing to, 
Oh can't you paint her "goo a goo " 
As when she tries to talk to you ? 

' ' I cannot do it, ' ' the artist said, 

And disappointed dropped her head. 

A picture of our baby May, 
Our neighbor's baby o'er the way. 
Let me peep o'er your shoulder, 
It is she, just behold her! 



Our Neighbor's Baby. 

But she's always sitting. 
May is always flitting. 
Eyes of blue, dimples too, 
But she always sits so still. 
Can't you let her move at will ? 
She will tire of sitting still. 

Dancing, sprightly baby May! 
Crowing, jumping, all the day! 
She's tr>dng to throw a kiss at you 
Don't hold her hands! Do let them go! 
"But one alone this task can do," 
In accents low the artist said, 
And disappointed dropped her head. 



^» 



Just hear that little tap, tap, tap 
There, sitting on her mother's lap 
Is our very baby May, 
At the window o'er the way. 
Hands and feet a-going. 
Laughing, cooing, crowing, 
Eyes of blue, dimples too. 
Now she's slipped down on the floor; 
Let's peep in the open door; 
What can artist wish for more ? 

Papa's foot-rest! See her shove it! 
Blue eyes peeping just above it! 
Now just see her trembling try 
To stand alone — sweet butterfly! 



44 Magnolia Leaves. 

Now gaze into those liquid eyes 
And note their dear unfeigned surprise, 
As, sweetly singing "goo a goo"! 
She throws a dainty kiss at you. 

Wellsville, N. Y. 



Life. 45 



LIFE. 

LIFE'S a panorama, shifting, shifting, 
(Prelude) Blackness lapsing into gray, 

Grayness, fading, fading, dies away. 
Rosy morn with cloudlets drifting, drifting. 
Through which sunbeams softly sifting, sifting, 

Glint until the zenith of the day. 

When, lo! A thunder-bolt! A flash! Oh, stay! 
Too late! A heart is rent! (The curtai?i's Hftifig) 
How changed the scene! And e'en while gazing, we 
Scarce note the change, 'tis done so dexterously. 

Behold ! A sweet submissive peaceful haze, 

So like the shortening Indian summer days, 
And now the end ! And if the life be true, 
A bank of glory shows the sunset through. 



46 Magnolia Leaves. 



SONG. 

MEMORIAL DAY. 

HAIL ! Comrades, hail ! The hour draws nigh 
When patriot hearts beat proud and high, 
When those who were our country's braves. 
The Hving, with their martial tread, 
The sleeping from their dreamless bed, 
Have met around our patriot's graves. 

CHORUS. 

Then come, while sweet spring birds are singing. 
And bud and blossom freshly springing, 
We'll wreathe our country's sacred shrines 
With fairest flowers and ivy vines. 
And so a country's homage tell. 
For those who fought and those who fell, 
For freedom and the right. 

Let spirits blend ! Let fond hearts beat! 
The hour is dear when comrades meet; 
When those who served our country's need 
With weary march and prison life, 
With battle axe and bloody strife, 
Have met to share our country's meed. 



So?ig. 47 



CHORUS. 



The battle cry is heard no more; 

Sweet peace resounds from shore to shore, 

While o'er our land a free flag waves. 

But see! they're standing with bowed head ! 

A host of heroes mourn their dead, 

And victors weep o'er victor's graves. 



48 Magnolia Leaves. 



A NATION'S MOURNING DAY. 

T 1 HTHIN an ancient city near the waves, 
^ ^ I stand beside the Union soldiers' graves, 
While, with the beating of the sea, 
My heart makes tuneful melody, 
On this a Nation's Mourning Day. 

What means this motley throng, while drawing near 

The soldiery in blue and gray appear ? 

They come! but not in war's array, 
These boys in blue and boys in gray, 
But bearing blossoms of the May. 

Lo! Children robed in white now fondly spread 
Vine-wreaths and flowers above the sleeping dead. 
While silence holdeth feeling sway 
O'er boys in blue and boys in gray. 
While dropping blossoms of the May. 

They march! and now within a gateway pause 
Where lie bold champions of surrendered cause. 

Pale women wreathe, with purpose high, 
The graves where their beloved lie; 
Then boys in blue and boys in gray, 
While dropping blossoms march away. 
St. Augustine, 



Love in a Boat. 



49 



LOVE IN A BOAT. 

'T^ HERE'S a sweep to an oar that we never 
A forget, 

When plied by a hand just proffered in love, 
When the sun in his gladness forgetting to set, 
Gilds the wavelets below, and the cloudlets 
above, 
With a smile of approval so gorgeous and gay, 

That life in its newness is fair to behold. 
With its drapings of purj^le, its settings of gold, 

Its glory on glory far-reaching away. 
Its undisturbed calm, like the calm of the bay. 
Its unfettered trust, — while two hearts in their 

greeting 
Give forth but one sound like the oars in their 
beating. 



50 Magnolia Leaves. 



ALTAR MEMORIES. 

OH, may my tongue no fonder strains repeat 
Than those we sang about the mercy-seat, 
When youthful knees were at the altar bent, 
And youthful hearts were filled with one intent. 
And aged saints sat nodding glad assent, 
And every living thing breathed forth "Repent," 

Oh, gladsome hour! when like a summer shower 
Which swells the ready bud to perfect flower, 
The Spirit comes, with quickening love and power, 
To youthful hearts by scores, till every face 
Bespeaks the joy of pardoning love and grace. 
And when across the lengthening chain of years, 
One feels again those trembling hopes and fears; 
And when with sweet distinctness lo! he hears 
Like ripples playing o'er a summer sea — 
"Nearer my God to Thee! Nearer to Thee! " 
As when it swelled from youthful hearts forgiven; 
How passing sweet to still repeat, 
In loving measure soft and sweet. 
Those strains which linked our souls to Heaven. 



Protect us from Our Friends. 51 



PROTECT US FROM OUR FRIENDS. 

AN ARYAN MYTH. 

NEATH Pankatantra's time-worn lids is told 
A tale, which doth an Ar>'an m^lh unfold. 
An ape his watch with faithful care once kept 
Beside the king, who all unconscious slept, 

Nor dreamed of wrong or ill. 
The moments came, the moments went, and lo! 
There 'lights a bee upon that royal brow. 
Fond ape would not that e'en the slightest sting 
From sleep should rouse the loved and loving king. 

And so at once the bee doth kill, 
With saber stroke, well aimed in faithful troth 
Of love to king, but ah! of death to both. 

Adown the ages con we o'er the thought 
By those far-off ancestral races wrought. 
And mocking dwarf from Norway's hills doth deign 
In merry mood to catch the distant strain, 
And tell of wife who sewed with pride 
Her husband's shirt, but left nor slit nor band 
Though careful sewed she all the seams by hand. 
She drew the garment o'er his head, dear soul, 
And with a beetle sought to pound a hole 



52 Magnolia Leaves. 

Through which his head and neck to slide. 
In love each stroke fell long, and hard, and fast, 
And Goody's husband's head came through at last. 
And though his head was sadly crushed and torn, 
'Twas done in love, and therefore must be borne. 

Possessed of patience, lo! he died. 

And now with trembling hand in later time, 
Upon this saw we ring our homely chime. 
When Love her fond and faitiiful keep would show, 
In ignorance full oft she deals a blow; 

Then deals and deals with all her might. 
Poor Love knows neither how nor when to strike. 
And works but ill to friend and foe alike; 
While, writhing 'neath the blows which fondness 

lends 
Her victim cries " Protect us from our friends! " 

While Love grown zealous in the fight 
Repeats her service, till the treasured cause 
Lies bleeding, then poor Love in tears withdraws. * 



For a Boy s Album. 53 



FOR A BOY'S ALBUM. 

AN angel, 'tis said, with one hand on your head, 
With the other describeth around you, 
A circle of honor so beauteous and rare, 
A circle of virtue with tenderest care. 
And within these sweet limits has bound you. 

Oh, do not step over, dear boy, for your life! 
For outside the circle armed vices are waiting, 
The blood of their victims their greed never sating; 

Stay inside the circle, nor enter the strife. 



54 Magnolia Leaves. 



A HOME BY THE SOUTHERN SEA. 

/^ GIVE me a home by the warm Southern sea, 
^-^ Where the playful waves bring a respite to me; 
Where from New Years till March the sweet jessa- 
mine bloom 
Fills the eye with its beaut}^, the air with perfume; 
And I almost can hear the tinkle and swell 
Of the dear little yellow jessamine bell, 
As it swings on its vine from the top of a tree. 
And exultantly shakes its bright petals at me. 

O give me a home by the warm Southern sea, 
Where the Cherokee rose climbs the palmetto tree, 
And sweetly peeps forth through perennial green, 
Bedecking the months 'twixt the fair jessamine 
And the magnolia grand, the Queen of the May, 
The tree of the Southland, pride of the day. 
The fountain of odors which scatter and fill 
The fair summer flowers and sweet daffodil. 

O give me a home by the warm Southern sea. 
Where jubilant sunbeams dance over the lea. 
Where with oars idly dropped I may float with the 
tides. 



A Home by the Southern Sea. 55 

Or rest in the hammocks which Nature provides; 
While vines, creeping vines, come forth in an hour 
And weave o'er my head a summer land bower; 
Then opening soft eyes looking love and good will 
They twine and keep twining unweariedly still. 

give me a home by the warm Southern sea. 
Where lilies hang drooping from shrub and from 

tree. 
Where the fruit in all seasons is luscious and rare, 
Where from May till December the soft balmy air 
Fills the soul with a lazy delight as I lie 
And list to the mocking birds twitter and cry; 
Till, catching a glimpse of the gay holly tree. 
As its bright berries tremble with radiant glee, 

1 am reminded that Christmas, glad Christmas is 

near, 
And that I have been dreaming for nearly a year. 



56 Magnolia Leaves. 



WHEN NO ONE KNOWS. 

A 1 7HEN the night is dark, 
' * Void of e'en a spark, 
Then your thoughts may glide 
To the great " Outside." 
You may live again 
All the pleasant pain; 
You may trembling wait 
At the garden gate 

If you choose, — 

No one knows. 

Live again the press 
Of that last caress. 
Gaze into those eyes 
Filled with Love's replies. 
As the dimming haze 
Of those parting days 
Shadowed them from sight. 
In the gloom of night, 

Gaze at ease, — 

No one sees. 

Speak, as though he heard, 
Love's last spoken word, 



When no o?ie Knows. 



57 



Spoken low, so low, 
In the long ago. 
Speak it soft again; 
It will ease the pain 
Of that hour, when fate 
Shut the garden gate. 

Have no fears, — 

No one hears. 

Day is breaking. Go! 
Seeds of gladness sow. 
They will spring and flower 
In a perfect bower 
Where Love's fountains play 
Some true heart shall say 
"All the bliss I know 
Find I, Love, in you." 

Pleaveh smiles 

At such wiles. 

£ 



58 Magnolia Leaves. 



THE COUNTRY LASS. 

T DAILY meet a country lass 
A Along the pathway through the grass, 
She maybe knows her face is sweet, 
But if she does a meek deceit 
Of innocence serves well to show 
Those pretty charms, which dazzle so, 
When worn by honest country girls -r 
With rippling laugh and flowing curls, 
And dainty blooms that come and go. 

Sweet country lass! with head a-bobbing. 
You set my weary heart a-throbbing, 
Every time we meet and pass 
Along the pathway through the grass. 



In Memoriam. 



59 



IN MEMORIAM. 

LITTLE GRACE. 
T IKE the early glow of a summer day 
■'— ' In its sweet release from the gloom of night, 
Lo! a fair young babe in its cradle lay 
With its ribbons pale and its robes of white. 

And a new love came in a mother's heart, 
A new light shone out from a father's eye, 

And new hopes were born to become a part 
Of two lives twice linked by this strange new tie. 

Lo! a casket stood in a darkened room, 
A white casket with flowers and green enwreathed, 

And a sweet babe lay 'mid roses and bloom 
And it smiled,— but only the roses breathed. 

A low mound arose in a churchyard lone. 
And the flowers sprang up in a single day, 

And away in the heavens a new star shone. 
And at night o'er the twain hung with kindly ray. 

Years of days have set 'neath the shades of night, 
And these two torn hearts are now reconciled, 

For the kindly star with its pale sweet light 
Wears ever the face of their cherub child. 
Wellsville, N. Y. 



6o Magnolia Leaves. 



LIFE'S A LOAD OF NEEDLESS CARE. 

LIFE'S a gift and so we dare not despise it. 
We take it up ere we have caught our breath, 
And bear it brave, or otherwise, till death. 
From youth to manhood ardently we prize it, — 
At sober fifty, fully realize it, — 
And now its sternness quite bewildereth 
The ups and downs, uncertainties, then death, — 
A dreaded turn, and why should we disguise it. 

So many lives are linked with ours, that we 
Go freighted e'en through all eternity 
With someone's sins, mayhap, or else we bear 
Their follies for our daily respite, till they wear 
Our souls to thinness, and in sheer despair 
We cry, " Oh, life's a load of needless care." 



Waiting at , the Dock. 6i 



WAITING AT THE DOCK. 

TT is only a simple, a stray bit of scene, 
^ A view from the dock of our fair Augustine 
While watching the play of my fisherman's oar. 
Who knows that I'm waiting for him on the shore. 
'Twixt the dock and a landing just over the way 
Is a track, where the steamers unceasingly play; 
While crossing this track the white sailing boats go, 
A dipping sometimes, and sometimes sailing slow. 
Between shore and channel two pleasure yachts pose 
And blush as a schooner in every-day clothes, — 
A fruit-laden schooner with storm-battered sides, 
This gorgeous harbor triumphantly rides. 

The new moon bewildered, like one half asleep 
Is watching her lover aflirt with the deep. 
He, blinding her eyes with a treacherous glance, 
Keeps smiling the while at the wavelets askance. 
And now, disappearing, fond sympathy draws 
The moon to the waves by love's mutual loss. 
And home-coming boatmen, while nearing the shore 
Grow still, as the moaning waves silvered o'er, 
Repeat sad refrains, while the pale patient moon 
From^watching grown weary, goes out in a swoon. 



62 Magnolia Leaves. 



THE SWINGING DOOR. 

I'M looking for somebody down the street; 
A For some one I never expect to meet; 
For somebody tall, and so young and fair, 
Who used to be loitering about the stair, 
And waiting to walk with me over the stile. 
He carried my books for me once in a while, 
As we both passed through the swinging door. 
In those dear old college days of yore. 

He's married and happy and so am I; 

I wouldn't meet him for the world, not I, 

For fear that one or the other might trace, 

By some chance word or confusion of face. 

The dear little secret we kept so well. 

The secret so open that all could tell. 

Which we in our innocence thought to keep best, 

By guarding it safe, each within our own breast. 

Time proves it was best it was never confessed. 

As we both passed through the swinging door 

In those dear old college days of yore. 

I'm looking for somebody down the street; 
For someone I never expect to meet; 



The Swingmg Door. 63 

But somehow or other I love to look, 
And all I can see is a boy with his book; 
And just at his side is my own little elf — 
My girl of sixteen — my Gertrude herself. 
They've unearthed an heirloom, so pretty it seems, 
To their foolish young hearts with their fanciful 

dreams. 
'Tis the secret which he, his father and I; 
Hid away in our hearts so careful and sly 
As we both passed through the swinging door 
In those dear old college days of yore. 



64 Magnolia Leaves. 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 

WHAT'S the matter d' you say? Why 'tis 
Thanksgiving Day, 
And we always have turkey and sweets. 
Dear brother Wake stoned the raisins for cake, 
Ma and I seasoned all of the meats. 

She was working away, oh, so happy and gay, 
And the pepper-box stood by her side. 

I sprinkled the goose, but the cover was loose, 
And my mamma, — she just stood and cried. 

Now I thought that there must just a wee bit of dust 

Have gotten somehow in her eyes, 
But she sent me away to the store-room to play. 

And I put my fist into the pies. 

Now I ran out of there with a very great scare. 
And my mamma was telling the rest, 

How that some little sinner had spoiled all the din- 
ner, 
"Oh, just look at his fist ! " said Vest. 

Now a portion of paste to my knuckles stuck fast, 
And oh! think how I felt when they all 



Thariksgiving Day. 65 

Just looked me up and down and put on such a 
frown, 
Till my papa came into the hall. 

Then they told him how I had been into the pie, 
How of pepper some more than an ounce 

I had poured from the box, just as sly as a fox, 
And he said I deserved a good trounce. 

Then he gave me a hug, and he tore up the rug 
And he frightened the cat from the door. 

And he mussed mamma's gown while a-smothering 
her frown, 
And her very best gown, too, she wore. 

Now you see we were dressed everyone in his best, 
And 'twas all v^xy charming and nice. 

And our papa did pray on this Thanksgiving Day, 
And we all sat as still as a mice. 



66 Magnolia Leaves. 



'NEATH THE COTTONWOOD TREES. 

LET one who sips life's tears with strange de- 
light, 
And finds in sobs and sighs life's harmony, 
Go out beneath the cottonwood trees at night, 
And there repent the laughter of the day. 
Then listen to the rustling of the leaves 
Like steady rain-fall from the homestead eaves, 
And listening, weep and pray, 
But on the morrow hie away; 
It is not well to dwell there all the weary while. 
To-night we weep and pray, to-morrow toil and 
smile, 
But the cottonwoods weep and smile. 
All the night and all the day. 



The Banquet. 67 



THE BANQUET. 

THE banquet is spread and the feast ne'er so gay- 
Is enlivened with laughter and jesting to-night. 
There are faces with seams, there are locks that are 
gray, 
There are forms that are bent but with hearts that 
are light; 
For the clasp of a hand which we held in our youth, 
As we climbed up the steeps of fair science and 

truth, 
Sends a thrill and a throb and a bound to the heart; 
Till the pulses of life into new channels start, — 
The burdens are lifted, the shadows depart. 

Our places are vacant, we may not be there, 

I wonder if any will look the crowd o'er, 
For our faces so faded and wrinkled with care. 
To appear at the hall or banquet room door. 
O, quick! Send a message, and in it you say: 
"Dear comrades, we're with you in spirit to-day." 
Then let us contentedly number them o'er 
As in youth and in beauty they gathered of yore 
With their hands full of books and their heads full 
of lore. 



68 Magnolia Leaves. 

They will speak of each class, of the ones that are 
gone; 
They will number our dead, while to us in our 
dreams, 
The dead and the living unite, one by one. 

In a welcome so hearty and life-like it seems, 
That I fancy a school year about to begin. 
And imagine the lesson-bell tolling it in. 
While the stile and the walk and the great college 

door 
Are crowded with forms I have seen there before, 
And no one is missing — no eyes running o'er 
With tears for the lost who shall come nevermore. 



hi Memoriam. 69 



IN MEMORIAM. 

FREDA. 

ONLY lilies and roses with her could compare, 
And the violets upspringing here, there, every- 
where. 
From the gay morning dawn to the late evening's 

close. 
She made gladder our joys and serener our woes, 
By shedding o'er all her luscious perfume 
Like the mingling sweets from the garden of bloom. 
But the lilies must fade 'neath the hot scorching sun; 
The roses must fall when the northern winds blow, 
And the violets shut their dear eyes one by one. 
And reluctant lie sleeping down under the snow. 

But the genn of the flower remains to the spring, 
Then springs up afresh in its new wakening 
And cheers by its beauty and fragrance again 
Till we in our joy forget parting and pain. 
Sweet Freda, your floweret, has had her brief hour, 
And has risen again a more beauteous flower. 
She has loved you and cheered you and gone to her 

rest; 
And He who hath said "Let them come unto Me! " 



70 Magnolia Leaves. 

Now folds her with Httle ones close to His breast, 
And of such shall the kingdom — the Heaven- 
home be. 



The Unavailmg Tear. 71 



THE UNAVAILING TEAR. 

1 WONDER if the unavailing tears we shed 
O'er vain desires, will one day rise 
Like dews absorbed by sunny skies, 
To fall in floods of full fruition on our heads. 

I wonder if the unavailing tears we shed 
Will wear the rock of destiny, 
Till through its fissures we shall see 

Fruition's gleams by Heaven's own sunshine fed. 

I wonder if the unavailing tears we shed 
In God's great palm will overflow, 
And trickling down bring patience so 

That we can wait for Heaven's fruition in earth's 
stead. 



72 Magnolia Leaves. 



WE'VE SUNG TOGETHER. 

IN the stillness of night when the world is asleep, 
When the bright-tinted twilight enveloped in 

blue 
Like a sentinel, guardeth the day life from view, 
And the stars one by one from behind the blue peep, 
And my soul in its respite from labor and care 
Holdeth silent commune with the spirits of air. 
How the present fades blendingly into the past. 
Till I stand on the threshold of childhood at last. 
Just as careless and wild as when playing with toys. 
Or wading the brook with the girls and the boys; 
Those dear country urchins, so lithesome and free, 
As pure as the snow-flakes that melt in the sea; 
Or, again, like the dew-drops that tremble and shake 
On the briars and ferns that grow close by the lake. 
Where we gathered the pebbles and counted them 

o'er 
As we wandered in pairs on the gray sandy shore; 
And watched the bright sunlight steal downward 

and then, 
After tipping the wave-tops returning again, 
And tinging the sky that the earth should not vie. 
In her gay crimsoned robes with the glory on high. 



We^ve Sii7ig Together. 73 

The night air is clear, and how plainly I hear 
Each laugh in its sweetness ring out loud and clear; 
It is said that the best have gone down to their rest, 
Yet I hear each soft note as it swelled from the 

throat 
Of my loved as we rode in our new painted boat; 
And listened, then laughed at our happy refrain 
Echoed back to our ears from the shore-land again. 
Happy thought! Now I know that the far distant 

notes 
Which we hear as v.e sail in our tempest-tossed 

boats, 
Are our own happy songs of our innocent youth 
Echoed back by our angels of light and of truth. 
And so we have sung altogether once more 
A part from our life-boats and part from the shore. 
And thus 'twixt ourselves and our angels of light, 
May the links be kept ever with love burnished 

bright, 
And when in life's chorus we miss a sweet strain, 
Let us list if from Heaven we may catch it again. 
With a glorified trill that shall 'liven and thrill 
Our cold bosoms, in patience and love to fulfill 
All the measure of melody, sweetness and grace, 
Which amid the dark lines of our lives we may 

trace. 
May we tune our worn harps to the songs of the 

blest, 

F 



74 Magnolia Leaves. 

And when in our singing we come to the "rest," 
Pause a moment, and then go on singing again, 
As our angels have done in a glorified strain. 
And someone may hear when the night-air is clear. 
And everything rests save the throbbing of breasts, 
Our glorified strain, which shall lessen their pain, 
And help them to take up life's labor again. 
And so we shall sing all together once more, 
A part from our life-boats and part from the shore. 



The Old Year. 75 



THE OLD Y£AR. 

ANOTHER year is breathing out its life so still; 
A year with many changes fraught of good 
and ill; 
Ah, yes! a year of hopes destroyed and hopes ful- 
filled; 
And can we say that God the Father all hath willed ? 

Or hath our own proud hearts some bitter pangs 
untold, 

As here we sit and wait the glad New Year to greet; 

The young obtrusive year which comes with hurry- 
ing feet, 

To gather to its grave the dying and the old ? 

Oh, God ! Thy sympathetic ear alone shall hear 
The unbreathed prayer, or note the unspent tear, 
As tolls the bell which tells the fate of one more 

year. 
And brings the final change more near, and still 

more near. 

188.S. 



76 Magnolia Leaves. 



DO YOUR GOOD FOR THE SAKE OF 
ITSELF. 

SOME people are governed by motives of pelf, 
Or some other mean motive, in all that they do. 
Why not do your good for the sake of itself 

And not with a ten per cent, profit in view ? 
Why go clinging and clanging your deeds in the ear 

Of a public unheeding and selfish and blind, 
Or wait for their ' ' bids ' ' like a lank auctioneer 

With a visage unwholesome, unloving, unkind, 
When the best of your efforts go far below cost 
And are prized least by those who should prize 
them the most ? 

If e'er you've befriended a man on the street 

Just try to forget it as soon as you can; 
If he gives you a kick the next time that you meet 

Accept it with patience; he's only a man. 
And a man is a man; he's only the human — 

The residue left after fashioning woman — 
Each good that you do makes you less of a brute. 

And brings you a step or two nearer the throne. 



Do Your Good for the Sake of Itself. 77 

The recipient's lips may be ever so mute, 
There's a feeling of conscious good wholly your 
own. 

Then go to your task of daily well-doing, 
Nor the praises of men be forever pursuing. 



78 Magnolia Leaves. 



AN ARBOR DAY PLEA. 
(little miss speaks.) 

YE herds that haunt the country ways, 
Ye lowing kine with threatening horns, 
E'en birds abruptly cease their lays, 

And leave their nests among the thorns, 
Where'er ye tread with reckless hoof. 

While bleeding bloom its fragrance sheds, 

And violets tremble in their beds, 
And frightened children stand aloof. 

E'en struggling maples browsed and gnawed, 

By your dread presence over-awed, 
For mercy cry, with ceaseless pleas. 

But only to be crushed and bleed; 

A victim to the farmer's greed; 
While ye graze on with careless ease. 

(class in chorus.) 

The farmer's greed's the farmer's sin. 
Oh, won't you shut your cattle in ? 
Please shut your cattle in, my friend. 
And let the clovers bob and bend, 
Along the highways — and the daisies 



An Arbor Day Plea. 79 

They will sweetly nod your praises; 
While every rose-crowned laughing child, 
Your name will shout in transport wild. 



8o Magnolia Leaves. 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

DEDICATED TO " JOE " AND "EURIE." 

WE come to-day, the old friends and the new, 
Our offerings of welcome bringing; 
Some, at the altar smiled with you, 

And at the bier, with tender clinging. 
Have many waited till the night was gone, 
And resignation o'er your darkness shone. 
And not alone we come, e'en now there waits 
A throng unseen, within your verj' gates. 

Propitious hour, \\ hen friends of other years. 

Kind, honest faces reappearing, 
May stand and gaze, 'mid smiles or blinding tears 

On scenes in bud or scenes in sereing. 
What playful shades! What darkening shadows, too. 
Yet seen to-day, so lovely, fair to view. 
Those cloudless tints with dreamy beauty glow. 
Not less those clouds with heaven-light shining 
through. 

Throw open wide the doors, and have no fear. 
Let guests explore, e'en to the rafters, 



The Golden Wedding. 8i 

There are no skeletons in closets Jierc, 

No goblins with their hideous laughters. 
There sits grim Death! But just a pace above 
Sit sweet Submission, Victor>^ and Love. 
The last sustains the first while Victor}' crowns, 
And sweetly smiles at Death's forbidding frowns. 

Be glad that though your hearts have oft been 
stirred 

Their unison has ne'er been broken, 
And each unto the other has not erred 

By treacherous thought unbreathed or spoken. 
Now say, if life were young again or new, 
The altar crowned, the guests awaiting you. 
And you about to draw aside the curtain 
Dividing all the future, long, uncertain. 
From youth's brief hour of richly tinted pleasures. 
And Father Time should open up his treasures 
And picture forth your path through fifty years, 
The fainting sickness, smiles, and drowning tears. 
With all the kind and thoughtful courtesies 
Of each to each, of children none the less. 
Would you repeat the vow ? You would ? Then go 
You foolish lovers! Do not tremble so! 
Renew your troth! If anyone object 
Speak out! Or ever after recollect 
To let this honored couple go in peace 
Till Death shall bring to them a glad surcease. 



82 Mag7iolia Leaves. 

It must be sweet, beneath the slanting rays 

Of life's autumnal sun declining, 
To count your fifty nuptials told in days, 

And note the shadow and the shining. 
And wait the slowly deepening after-glow 
With one you trusted in the long ago, 
And feel the sweet content of love requited 
That glows in lives thus happily united. 

Your hospitality has oft been told, 

And these to-day who bring you greeting, 
Your names in grateful memory will hold 

Till life shall cease its busy beating. 
Without, November chills the air to-day, 
Within, there floats the perfumes of the May; 
So you, while passing down life's wintry hours, 
Enjoy the fragrance of your well-earned flowers. 
Possess your souls in patience and in peace, 
Nor scorn life's simple joys and ecstacies. 
And when your latest sunset you behold. 
May all your sky be tinged as now, with gold. 



Little Dick' s Prayer. 83 



LITTLE DICK'S PRAYER. 

DEAR Mamma! won't you, when you pray, 
Ask God to make me, in one day, 
As big as brother Tom or Joe ? 
Ask him to make me just as strong, 
With hands as big and arms as long, 
But not just like them. Ma, you know. 

You know they do not love to work, 
And that they very often shirk, 

And sometimes. Mamma, even pout 
When asked by you a pail to bring 
Of water, from the meadow spring 

With violets blooming all about. 

If only I could climb the rail 
With such a bouncing water pail, 

I'd run and laugh and gaily sing. 
To think that I was helping you. 
So sweet, so kind, so good and true, 

A bringing water from the spring. 

Oh, tell Him, Ma, how oft you sigh, 
Until it almost makes me cry; 
And tell Him all about your cough. 



84 Magnolia Leaves. 

Now go, dear Mamma, go and pray, 
That God will make me big to-day, 
Tell Him I inust be big right off. 

Now bring a suit of Tommy's clothes. 
No! Joe's are bigger, bring me Joe's. 

And while you pray I'll stand and grow. 
And when my clothes begin to pinch, 
I'll take them off, I'll never flinch, 

But naked stand from top to toe. 

And when I'm grown up big I'll call 
Or rap a little on the wall; 

And then I'll dress myself and go 
And bring the water, split the wood, 
And be so very kind and good, 

You'll never sigh again I know. 



Hazlerood. 85 



HAZLEROOD.* 

THE broad Southern sky on fair Hazlerood 
Beach 
Is zoned by the ocean and far away reach 
Of bright evergreen, while a ribbon of river 
With breeze-fluted edges and centre a quiver, 
Adds sky-tinted hues to the landscape of green; 
Like a vein of soft humor it laughs in between 
The sameness of tones, which are wont to prevail. 
Now heightened and cheered by a free spreading 
sail. 

The sunsets and sunrisings wholesomely vie 

In decking with splendor the over-arched sky; 

The twilight, amazed, is now blinking in glee 

At her own mirrored self in the clouds o'er the sea, 

While the sea tranquil lies 'neath the overhung hues 

In stilled admiration unwitting the ruse; 

The Twilight withdraws with a quick look of scorn, 

The coquettish East now divested and lorn, 

And wrapped in the darkness and blackness and 

gloom, 
Now spreads o'er her lover the pall of the tomb. 

* North Beach, Florida. 



86 Magnolia Leaves. 

But Day will arise and triumphantly smile 

In lavish endearment o'er all the broad isle, 

When the denizens' children will shout without fear 

In chorus with crowings of proud chanticleer, — 

A fatherly pioneer fowl by the way 

Which announces the first faint appearance of day. 

Both great fish and small inquisitive glide, 

To watch the fair bathers at play with the tide. 

Bold Waltons, annoyed, with a well-baited hook 

Securely fasten their gaze as they look. 

The tiny beach-clam fears the sand piper well; 

Its offspring coquina its praises shall swell 

As long as yon city looms up on the sight; 

The pride of the past with its glory and might 

Enhanced by its castled walls, turrets and towers, 

And courts where the fountains make love to the 

flowers, 
And wealth and luxuriance lavishly poUrs 
A profusion of choices to guests at her doors. 
Oh, Proud Alma Mater! Sweet haven of rest! 

In graceful obeisance our waves rise and fall, 
While health-laden breezes are lovingly pressed 
Against the pale cheeks of the humblest guest, 
Whether comes he from hovel, or comes he from 

hall, 
Please pin this new charm to thy gem-spangled 

breast. 



Two Butterflies. 87 



TWO BUTTERFLIES. 

A BUTTERFLY, with wings all golden-tipped, 
Alighted on a fair bouquet 
Which on a dear girl's bosom lay. 
She sweetly smiled, while it the sweetness sipped. 
We had been chatting, she and I, 
To while the passing moments by; 
But ne'er a word dared either utter 
For fear a breath's untimely flutter 
Might fright the pretty thing away, 
And in the silence, as it lay. 
Or tipped, and sweetness fondly sipped, 
And she a-smiling, ruby-lipped; 
I thought, ' ' You sweet coquet 
You'll break some poor heart yet." 
But ne'er a word — 
It might have stirred! 



88 Magnolia Leaves. 



THE DONATION. 

SHALL I ever forget the donations we gave 
To good ' ' Preacher Baxter at home ' ' by the 
wave? 
To the man who had served us through woe and 

through weal, 
In our old country church with a heavenly zeal, 
And a love all inspiring, and Christ-like and real ? 

We carried him turkeys, and cheese and mince-pies. 
And what's better than all, carried love in our eyes. 
And a purse full of silver untarnished by greed, 
With no long-winded speecher to show up his need. 
The women, each one in her best cap and laces. 
The men, in their homespun with well-shaven 

faces. 
The swains with their glances so tenderly sweet 
At the maidens so shy and so daintily neat. 
Made a picture by candle-light strangely complete. 

But oh! 'twas the ride o'er the crisp creaking snow. 
Out under the moonlight alone with my beau; 
With my first beau; somehow that keeps coming 
between 



The Donatio7i. 89 



My old eyes and the rest of the donation scene, 
As the azure is dimmed by the shimmer and sheen 
Of the glory-light tinging the far floating gray, 
As the sun shines askance at the close of the day. 

G 



90 Magnolia Leaves. 



'TWIXT TWO ETERNITIES. 

LIFE is a span 'twixt two eternities, 
And men, like spiders, weaving- as the}' go, 
Work out designs of beauty or of woe. 
Heredity and circumstances, these. 
Combine to make the work a thing of ease. 
Or, frowning, make it toilsome, wearying, slow, 
And so at halting pace, we fettered go. 
He weaveth well who weaves in spite of these, 
An heirloom to his race of noble thought, 
So finely and so delicately wrought, 
That evening suns wait lovingly to kiss. 
And evening dews bedeck with trembling rife 
This network 'twixt the two eternities — 
This only thing that's worth the name of "Life." 



The Twin Statues. 



91 



THE TWIN STATUES. 

A LEGEND OF THE PASSAMAQUADY. 
|N the Passamaquady Bay, 



O' 



So the Redman's legends say, 
Lived a dusky daughter duteous 
On the headlands, bold and beauteous. 
Ne'er was maid more sweet or pure. 
And a Sachem came to woo her; 
Came with beads and gifts to wake her, 
Came with vows to ne'er forsake her. 
And the aged pair said "Take her." 

Then he clasped the joyous creature, 
Gazed with rapture on each feature. 
Clasped her to his strong, brave heart. 
And now made ready to depart. 
But this aged pair had taught her 
That though bride she still was daughter; 
That though they for gifts had sold her 
Still they owned her and controlled her, 
And they willed to keep and hold her. 

So they dwelt there all together, 
Till life's chill and wintry weather 



92 Magnolia Leaves. 

Had touched with frost the gloomy pair, 
And then they longing turned them where 
The St, John's murmuring waters play. 
But now the younger pair would stay. 
Then the father's anger heightened, 
Till the woman grew affrighted 
But the husband's face now brightened. 

The bride with bowed head sat weaving 
Strips of bark, with sweet deceiving, 
When Sachem whispered, soft and low, 
" My dark-cheeked bride shall never go! " 
She his love glance quick returning 
Filled his savage breast with yearning. 
Now softly said he, ''Stay my bride! 
And stir not while I cross the tide! " 
Her hands dropped idly at her side. 

He leaped into his birch canoe 
And quickly o'er the waters flew. 
He scarce had reached the farther side 
When o'er the face of his dark bride 
Passed stony hue! From across the water 
"Behold! " he cries, " Your duteous daughter! " 
The father smiled, but turning round 
His daughter changed to stone he found. 
In wrath he gave one mighty bound. 



The Twin Statues. 93 



But lo! The same sad, stony hue 
O'erspread the Sachem's features too. 
And there they sat in sweet content, 
Each one a gazing monument, 
Till age succeeding age had cast 
A halo round their mythic past. 
When idle wanton louts at play 
Rolled now the Sachem in the Bay 
With laugh and jeer, then strolled away. 

But still she sits, the faithful bride, 
And murmurs tell at eventide 
Of messages that come and go. 
Borne by the ceaseless ebb and flow. 
From her to him, from him to her. 
And still she sits, lone worshiper! 

Oh, ye Anglo-Saxon race! 

Ever ready to deface 

Every dim and distant trace 

Of the Redman from our land. 

With audacious, wanton hand. 

Could ye desperadoes spare not. 

Could your wanton hands forbear not. 

To spoil what men of valor dare not ? 

E'en a monument so hoary 

Of the Redman's pride and glory? 

Match your shame beside this story. 



94 Magnolia Leaves. 



COLDNESS AMONG CHURCH MEM- 
BERS. 

WE'VE a church, a brick church, 'tis the pride 
of our town; 
With its peaks sloping up, and its eaves sloping 

down, 
With its turrets and towers, its altars and spires, 
With its gay chandeliers, but alas! with no fires. 
With a space overhead so expansive and high, 
And a coloring soft as the over-arched sky. 
And with windows through which rays of purple 

and gold 
Creep in silence and beauty, but oh! it is cold. 

We sit in our pews and we shiver and shake, 
But 'tis not at the law's fiery terrors we quake. 
The thermometer's down e'en to thirty^ degrees 
And who would not prefer a fire to a freeze ? 
Must we to escape from the furnace of sin 
Be both frozen without and frozen within ? 
Must we to be sure of perennial bliss, 
To be saved in the next world, be frozen in this ? 
Wellsville, N. Y., 1874. 



Day- Birth. 95 



DAY-BIRTH. 

A SOUTHERN sunny day is bom, 
Night, fleeing, gazes back forlorn, 
While dew-washed dandelions raise 
Sunward their eyes, and ofter praise, 
Then droop beneath the dazzling rays, 
While lily-cups their odors bring 
Incense to Spring. 

The climbing roses open wide. 
Chameleons 'neath their petals hide, 
And, masked in borrowed livery, 
All wanton in the sun-spray lie, 
And 'neath a veiled identity, 
Their ruby flash they soft disclose 
Beneath the rose, — 

While Day in wakeful silence lies. 
In hushed suspense of glad surprise. 
Be still ! oh soul ! nor break the spell 
In silent throbs thine homage tell. 
A sound ! a song! a chorus swell 
From glad birds joined in ecstacies. 
Hold, Soul ! thy peace! 



96 Magnolia Leaves. 



DAME GRUMBLEBEE. 

DAME Grumblebee, as she sipped her tea, 
Cried "Fate has been so unkind to me." 
With face drawn in 
And pointed chin, 
She told her woes to her neighbors three. 
Who came invited to sip her tea. 
Now each had care and grief tenfold. 
But ne'er a tale of sorrow told. 
You would have thought Dame Grumblebee 
With face drawn in 
And pointed chin. 
Bore all the sorrows of the three 
Her own beside, as, pouring tea 
She poured her woes continuously. 



Old Voices. q^ 



OLD VOICES. 

/^FT limes, amid the din of human life 
^^ Is heard a voice; it falls upon the ear 
Like trickling waters, when the floods of strife 

Are stayed with hearty song and loving cheer. 
We start and list, then list and start again 

With that keen pleasure half akin to pain; 
For, all the chords of life and being strung 

In harmony v/ith youth, have each a tongue 
To echo tones of love and words of cheer, 

Which fall in sweetest cadence on the ear, 
When words ne'er cover selfish, artful wiles, 

And hearts are told in frankly spoken smiles. 
And so the face may wear its mask of care. 

The form may bend 'neath weight and toil and 
years. 
But, oh! ///«^ voice! I'd know it anywhere. 

'Tis soft as when it told its hopes and fears. 
In whisperings sweet, to willing girlish ears. 



98 Magnolia Leaves. 



CENTENNIAL ODE. 

IF e'er our land had need of honest men, 
Men made of gold and tried by furnace fires, 
'Tis now, to-day, this year of glory when 
We boast ourselves the sons of patriot sires. 
And yet we mourn a nation steeped in sin; 
Soaked half in fraud, the other half in gin. 
And, men, well taught in problems, 'tis for you 
To solve this mighty problem, "What to do! " 
God help ye noble lads, at college taught; 
Bring heads and hands to this as then ye brought 
Your energies and talents all combined, 
In books the unknown from the known to find. 
And come ye plowmen brave and brown and true, 
A place there is in this great field for you. 
Plow ye the soil, the fallow ground of sin, 
And God shall drop the seed and sunshine in. 
Let no one dare with frivolous smile to tell 
Of cushioned ease, and life all freed from care 
In this sad world, where wrong and error dwell, 
And passion lords it over blank despair; 
Where licensed vice the wrath of God defies, 
And dares to point its altars to the skies, 
While private stairways leading down to hell, 



Centennial Ode. 99 

Are thronged with countless victims none may tell, 
As though yon myriad stars in downward flight 
Had robbed of half its glory, gorgeous night. 
America! The land of tavern signs! 
Of toddies hot, and red and purple wines! 
Our Country! Woman do you love the name ? 
Then recognize your country's lawful claim. 
And train your sons to seek her future weal, 
Nor at her crib the golden grain to steal. 
'Tis but an eagle clipped it seems to me, 
Which screams "America! Land of the noble, free! " 
If e'er he spread his wings from tip to tip 
Complete, full feathered, sound in pith and bone, 
'Twill be when boyhood learns from mother's lip 
To covet manhood for its sake alone. 
Your boy to-day is stretching for that goal. 
Now say if you would have him soil his soul 
With franchise, blacked and smeared with party strife, 
Or cut and shaped and fashioned with the knife 
Of policy, — that thin, well-sharpened blade, 
So keenly cutting that the blood is stayed. 
Till victims, writhing, see nor spot nor stain 
To mark the inflicting hand which dealt the pain. 
Now place on him your mother hand of prayer, 
And say if you would have him idly share 
In gains ill got; because where legions steal. 
His track, perchance, submerged 'neath weightier 
heel 



loo Magnolia Leaves. 

Might lie unnoticed and unmeasured, when 
In spirit of inquiry, honest men, 
Through the thick darkness peering, scowl and cry 
Of fraud, and crime, and theft, in places high. 
From plastic mould which 'neath your hands doth lie 
Build ye each one a structure, strong and high! 
Yea structures, measured by the number given 
Of human souls, into your hands, by Heaven. 
What piles of human crime and weakness stand 
To-day to mar this proud centennial land ! 
Dark blots to curse and shame this free-named soil 
Pledged by ancestral blood to honest toil. 
What towers of strength ye fashion, when ye build 
These living columns, free from outward gild. 
Well framed in truth, inlaid with proper thought 
Of liberty in deeds of manhood wrought. 
Where truth and honor blend to form the layers, 
Cemented by maternal love and prayers. 
And lighted up with faith, complete, sublime. 
Eternal ray which glorifies the things of time. 
But hark! ye comrades, list how loud and clear 
Ring out those bells which usher in the year; 
Which tells a century of wealth and weal, 
All freed from tyrant's chain and despot's heel. 
What discord this, which grates and jars, as when 
Prose writers tip with rhyme their faulty pen. 
Till all the muses shake and press their lips. 
Or fill their fairy ears with finger-tips. 



Centcnjiial Ode. 



lOI 



What is it, I say, this low, discordant wail. 

Which freights with heavy woe each passing gale ? 

While bugles play in measure soft and sweet 

For toil-worn, weary, and untutored feet; 

Which staggering, halt, and rests forbidden take. 

While drunken revelry and riot make 

A strange commingling of song and brawl, 

A hberty o'ercast by slavish thrall. 

I love the name of liberty, but oh ! 

I loathe it when the vile her mantle throw 

O'er wrong and lust, and licensed fiendish crime, 

The curse and bane of this, our boasted time. 

Give me your hand, ye strong and noble band, 

That ere the next centennial bells shall ring, 

Of "Liberty " America may sing. 

And ne'er one heart 'mid scenes like this shall pray, 

"God save and pity sham America! " 



I02 Magnolia Leaves. 



SONNET OF YEARS. 

1890. 

SONNET of Years! America's proud song! 
Despairing years and hopeful, mingling strains 
Have sung in halting measure weird quatrains, 
Which, clasped by God's o'erruling love and strong, 
Couplet divine, now sweetly flow along 
The rhythmic homage of a nation's gains, 
The glad accord of patient toil and pains. 
While Faith, in echoes swells a fond prolong. 

Thy legislation savors less of taints. 
Exalted womanhood knows less of tears, 
Intemperance sits of half its glamour shorn, 
While pillars of false creeds lie razed and worn. 
Forgive! oh, Years! discordant, hopeless plaints, 
Of those who lacked the patience born of years. 



My Tivo Sweethearts. 103 



MY TWO SWEETHEARTS. 

I WAS only ten, and she was just three, 
Sweet Adelaide May, when she sat on my knee. 
And put up her face with a winning grace, 
To claim a kiss as her childish right, — 
Two every morning and two every night. 

I grew to be twenty and she thirteen. 
And then the kisses grew farther between, 
But lo! in their place, with a girlish grace. 
She now slipped a smile so sweet and so pure, 
That it only drew me the nearer to her. 

And now I am thirty and she twenty-three. 
And another sweet Adelaide sits on my knee, 
And puts up her face with a winning grace, 
And claims a kiss as her queenly right; 
While her mother sits by with a fond delight, 
And talks of the days in the long ago 
When she sat on my knee and did just so. 



I04 Magiiolia Leaves. 



NORMA'S TELEPHONE. 

I WISH that I could reach a string 
From earth to Heaven, so I could sing 
A song to sister May, and she 
Could sing an answering song to me. 

I should not dare to go astray, 
Or say bad words when at my play, 
For fear the telephone would bear 
The tidings upward through the air. 

And when the nights were bright and clear, 
How sweet 't would be for me to hear 
Her ringing voice from out the sky; 
How sweet to her, too, my reply. 

I'd sing the songs she used to love, 
And she the new ones learned above, 
The ones she's learned at Jesus' feet; 
They must be wondrous clear and sweet. 

When Jesus comes to hear my prayer, 
I'll ask Him if He'll take it there 
— This telephone — then when I'm sad 
She'll sing to me and make me glad. 



Normals Telepho7ie. 105 

And I shall learn before I go 
Those heavenly songs that charm her so; 
Come, Jesus, come, and bear away 
This telephone to Sister May. 

H 



io6 Mag7iolia Leaves. 



BY CHANCE. 

WELL ! What of life, old friends, since last we 
met. 
With book in hand adown the college walk, 
Or round the stile — sweet picture living yet — 

Or at the pump, which creaked to hide our talk ? 
Those chats of unlearned tasks, of books and 

weather; 
Those sweet discoursive threads which knit together 
In dreamy consciousness our souls as one. 
While basking in life's summer, morning sun. 

What lessons have you conned and learned since 

then, 
While dealing with yourselves and fellow-men ? 
What of your standing in the school of life .-* 
How have you braved its struggles and its strife? 
Hide not your scars! They tell of victories gained 

O'er foes without, and fiercer foes within. 
The victor's banner leads the march, though stained, 

When borne in triumph over self and sin. 

Propitious hour! when friends of by-gone years 
Have met, by chance, to breathe their hopes and 
fears, 



By Cka?ice. jq- 

To count their crosses and their crowns together 
Beneath the shade of Hfe's autumnal weather. 

Didst ever toss, old friends, till break of day, 
Then watch dim daylight chase the black away, 
Then list to full-fledged choir of sweetest praise, 
Such as the summer birds are wont to raise, 
Then doze, and dream, and wake between, and 

smile — 
The silver edging all the gray the while- 
Till all your soul was rested and inspired 
And with great purpose filled; your being fired 
With glowing wish to do, or dare, or die 
For Honor's sake ? Then gently I reply. 
The healthy zeal which springs from scenes like this 
Is as replete in measure and in bliss. 



io8 Mag7iolia Leaves. 



TENTING ON SODUS BAY. 

WE'VE pitched our tent 'neath the cottonwood 
trees, 

Near by where the Hlies grow; 
The leaves are stirred by each passing breeze, 

The rushes are nodding low. 
And e'en the lilies are trying to hide 

Their heads, as the boats go by. 
And life, sweet life, breathes on every side, 

And swiftly the moments fly. 
As over the rippling silvery bay 
Fond lovers and anglers idly play. 

A ribbon of land to a wooden pier clings, 

A bluff to a sand-bar white. 
And 'twixt these two, where a light-house flings 

Its draw-bridge of shades at night, 
A channel flows, where loaded ships wait 

For the tug with its busy wheels, 
And eager fishermen cast their bait. 

And the boys set their lines for eels; 
While over the rippling, silvery bay, 
Fond lovers and anglers idly play. 



Tenting on Sodus Bay. 109 

Oft times I stay, when my loved ones go, 

And play in the pebbly sand. 
And watch }}iy hvo as they quickly row 

Far out o'er the lake from land. 
I know my oarsman is skilled with the oar; 

I know that my boy is brave; 
But as farther and farther away from shore 

They ride on the rolling wave, 
I wish they would stay on the rippling bay, 
Where lovers and idlers angle and play. 

They love to ride when the waves roll high. 

And white-caps tumble and play; 
Then proudly their oars they doubly ply, 

And rock in the dashing spray, 
Till their cheeks grow red and their muscles strong, 

Then, with never a thought of ill. 
They turn about with a laugh and a song, 

And hunger repays their skill. 
As homeward they fly o'er the rippling bay. 
Where lovers and anglers idly play. 

I love to ride when the tent-lights glow. 

And the bay, with its silvery sheen. 

Is covered with oars dipping fast and slow, 

With sweet music and laughter between. 

But oh, the joy of a morning troll ! 

When the sky is hid by a vapor thin, 



no Magnolia Leaves. 



The joy ecstatic which thrills the soul 

When hauling a pickerel in, 
As o'er the dark blue rolling bay, 
The pattering rain drops dance and play. 



The First Easter. m 



THE FIRST EASTER. 

AT THE MEMORIAL CHURCH. 

SWEET hyacinths and roses lay on a bank of 
ferns, 
Beneath the altar, smiling, and paled and blushed 

by turns, 
As radiant Easter Lilies bent o'er them from above, 
And through a fringe of smilax, soft whispered, 

"God is love!" 
While sentry lilies stationed beneath the spreading 

palms, 
On shields all white and fragrant, presented Easter 

alms. 
And all along the altar "The Christ is Risen!" 

breathed, 
From jessamines and roses, by loving fingers 

wreathed. 
While glad the organ pealing resounded to the dome, 
And many sweet-voiced singers brought well the 

music home. 
Till ' ' Christ is Risen ! ' ' echoed from pulpit and from 

pews, 
Mayhap some sweet-voiced angel caught up the 

joyful news. 



112 MciQ-jiolia Leaves 



<i) 



And Heaven-wafted echoes of service found their 

way 
Before the Christ, our Saviour, on that glad Easter 

day. 

St. Augustine, 1886. 



Naming the Tree. 113 



NAMING THE TREE. 

I'M a merr>' little maid, 
With my pick, and hoe and spade, 

And I'm digging, digging, digging everywhere; 
Late this little sapling stood 
In a dark and leafy wood, 

And kept nodding, nodding at the maiden-hair; 
While the moss kept creeping, creeping, 
And the violets peeping, peeping. 

With those longing eyes so tender, and so blue; 

But the sapling grew so slender, and I knew 
'Twas for its good. I shut my eyes — 
But oh, you should have heard the sighs! 
As I struck the fatal blow 
Which brought terror, and such woe. 
To the moss and maiden-hair, 
And the violets springing there. 

I'm a merry little maid. 
With my pick, and hoe and spade. 
And I'm digging, digging, digging everywhere. 
On this pleasant Arbor Day, 
'Mid the perfumes of the May, 



114 Magnolia Leaves. 

I transplant this sapling with the tenderest care. 
Let each, with shovel in his hand, 
Deposit here a bit of sand. 
Please don't harm the maiden-hair so true. 
Nor creeping moss, with the violets peeping through, 
I wonder if 'neath sunny skies 
Will swell to heavenly rhapsodies 
These youthful loves, nursed in the wood, — 
Oh, if they only, only could ! 
Or do the giant oaks outgrow 
Their youthful loves, as people do ? 

I'm a merry little maid, 

With my pick, and hoe and spade, 

And I'm digging, digging, digging everywhere. 
Longfellow to his loves was true, 
His name I now bequeathe to you. 

An inspiration may it be of virtues rare. 

May the moss keep creeping, creeping, 
And violets keep peeping, peeping. 

Emblems of the loves his manhood knew. 

May thy heart of oak like his be always true. 
And may thy branches o'er us sway. 
And in their rustling accents say. 
Repeating, oft, his "Psalm of Life," 
To us who come, worn with the strife; 
And may its wisdom guide our way, 
Until shall dawn our Arbor Day. 



Our Dead Chief. 115 



OUR DEAD CHIEF. 

1882. 

WHAT means this badge of mourning floating 
far? 
From hill to vale, from vale to sheltered heath, 
While, bordering everywhere the stripe and star, 
A line of blackness marks a trail of death. 

Somewhere, a voice is hushed, a heart is stilled; 

A kindly heart enshrined throughout the land; 
Else why the air with groans of anguish filled 

While weeping mourners throng on every hand ? 

A Nation groans. Be calm, oh. Nation! Yield ! 

Nor stand aghast when death but claims his own. 
But lo! The cry from forest and from field, 

From palace and from cot the plaintive moan: 

*' Our chief is dead ! our noble chief is dead ! " 
Like Rachel we will not be comforted, 

For he is dead ! and all we hold instead 
For all the helpless sorrow, tears and pains, 
Is one poor execrable wretch in chains. 



ii6 Magnolia Leaves. 



FRUITION IN SHADOW. 

BRIGHT day had faded into sober night, 
As along a Southern sandy beach they strolled, 
A youth and mother; she with sweet content 
Gazed in his eyes replete with life unspent. 
Bold targets showed against the sandy height 
Where riflemen that day their scores had told. 
The youth pressed on. She, clinging, also went. 
And ever and anon the wild waves rolled. 

"Along your path life's targets rise," she said. 
* * Mean-handed Fate her favors oft have doled. 
Defy her, boy! and with unerring aim, 
Win thou the prize, a clean, unsullied name. 
The outshoot of a cultured heart and head 
Your prize — a medal of eternal gold — 
Shall far out-last the proffered gifts of fame." 
And ever and anon the wild waves rolled. 

Alone upon that sandy shore at night 
He stood in after years, in manhood bold; 
A mother's guiding words had worked her will. 
And with a soul alive with noble thrill. 
Fruition crowned, with laurels fresh and bright. 



Fruition hi Shadow. 117 



He came once more his mother's hand to hold. 
He reached and clasped — but air. The waves 

stood still. 
And then as if to drown his cries they rolled, 
Then pulsed in mournful beats as lone he strolled. 



ii8 Magnolia Leaves. 



A MINE OF THOUGHT. 

HE who a mine of thought inherits 
By right divine, 
Should each day prove its worth and merits, 
By quarrying gems or golden carats. 
Exceeding fine. 

His claim, oft times, a mine encloses, 

Never dreamed. 
So silently the ore reposes, 
Till prospect unto him discloses 

Where 'tis seamed. 

Unearthed, sometimes, the choicest treasure 

Lies all unknown. 
Because from heedless love of leisure 
The inner wealth we fail to measure 

Of strength and tone. 

Bring earnest toil ! Your shaft, deep sinking. 

Rewards your pains. 
Broad galleries of thought now linking 
Where you may gather gems of thinking 

Scattered in veins. 



A Mine of Thought. 119 

Bring forth your treasure, not despising 

The weakest glow, 
A diamond lay in plain disguising, 
A plaything which a child, scarce prizing, 

Tossed to and fro. 

An adept seeing, without warning. 

Possessed the toy. 
Parisian splendor soon adorning. 
It brought the farmer's child a morning 

Of great joy. 

Locate, delve, then polish ever, 

Offer your best. 
Alloy from truth seek well to sever, 
Then shall some gem adorn forever 

Your sleeping breast. 



I20 Mag7ioHa Leaves. 



C.EDMON. 

A JUTTING cliff upreared its lofty brow 
-**■ With solid base beset by ocean flood 
Which rolled, and beat, and tossed in furious mood. 
While calm and lone in crowning silence stood, 
Like some old sentinel of years agone, 
Still standing guard, though long since turned to 

stone, 
Hilda's monastery of the Sacred Vow, 
O'er which an Abbess reigned, of royal blood. 
And song, and feast, and mirth were wont to grace 
The towering grandeur of this sea-swept place; 
Thus breathing life into the calm, dead face, 
And resting now in turn the waves below 
From that unceasing, stony stare of woe. 
Which gazed, unmindful of the fret and flow, 
Which mirrored back the dark and solemn frown. 
And sought in vain the stolid gaze to drown. 
One, Caedmon, humble keeper of the stalls, 
Grown old in service 'neath those dreary walls, 
In vision heard a voice, which bade him sing 
The birth of each and every living thing. 
"I cannot sing," he said, when lo! a thrill 
Of inspiration swept his soul at will, 



CcEdmo7i. 121 

And as he sang, the very air grew still 
In sweet and solemn hush, till morn awoke. 
And he himself the listening silence broke 
In songs of praise so passing pure and sweet, 
That loitering servants ran with hurrying feet, 
To tell the Abbess of the wond'rous lays, 
Which Csedmon caught from Heaven while he slept, 
And while the stable faithfully he kept. 
The Abbess listened to his songs of praise. 
And said, *' Thou' rt taught of God and not of man! " 
And so in praise our English song began. 
In praise! Grand impulse of the human soul, 
Which beats and throbs, and swells, defies control, 
And bursts, enraptured with a glad surj")rise 
Of gratitude, which seeks no mean disguise, 
But speaks itself in numbers rich and round. 
Till e'en the echoing hills with joy resound. 
And speaking dust joins in the gladsome sound. 
Then while we hold the grateful gift of song, 
Oh, may we Csedmon's homage still prolong! 

I 



122 Magnolia Leaves. 



MY SIGNET RING. 

DEDICATED TO " W. S. " OF SODUS, N. Y. 

T HAVE a ring with a name cut in it; 

A A ring I've worn since my youthful years; 
I see the giver again this minute, 

As he looked to me through my glad young tears, 
When placing the ring on my trembling finger. 
Oh, why did he wait ? Oh, why did he linger ? 
I asked him why, and he simply said 
" Be faithful, child ! " and turned his head. 

We're parted long, but it stays where he placed it; 

The ring I've worn since my youthful years; 
Time and wear have somewhat defaced it, 

But oft I've read through my blinding tears 
That name and kissed it, for oh! Why not? 
Should the dear name Father be ever forgot ? 
And now that he borders his four-score years 
I gaze on it sadly, and often in tears. 



Oh, Spare the Old House. 123 



OH, SPARE THE OLD HOUSE. 

OH, spare the old house where I first saw the 
light, 
Where my mother passed in as a bride; 
But after a few fleeting years of delight, 
In her loveliness faded and died. 

Oh, spare the old house with its window-panes small. 
And its doorway so humble and low; 

It once was as gay as e'er manor or hall 
With its drapings of crimson and glow. 

For sunsets gazed in at the doorway and smiled 
On the cheek of a mother and wife; 

Then dancing about they beamed on a child; 
Unto one man this picture was ' ' Life. ' ' 

Oh, spare the old house where he bent o'er his dead, 
And where I in my innocence smiled; ^ 

And kept him from breaking his heart as he said, 
"Thou art left me, my poor orphan child." 



LIBRARY OF CONGRES^^^ 



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